


Broken Promise

by Tarlan



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-17 12:55:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John had made a promise never to love again; never to get close to another person ever again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Promise

**Author's Note:**

> Written for **theficklepickle** as a Trick or Treat gift!

When Finch disappeared, Reese discovered he still had the capacity to delude himself into believing he was immune to any emotional response towards people other than simple caring. He had suffered betrayal and loss too many times to mention, and had believed he had hardened his heart against feeling those same cold fingers dragging ragged nails through the tattered remnants of his soul. He had pulled away from the world for a long time, lost in his own grief, and moving through each day without purpose, until Finch drew him into his world--and that of the machine.

It had given him a chance to make a difference, solving an intricate puzzle that started with a social security number. It had given him a purpose, and a reason to get out of bed each morning to face another day rather than the bottom of a liquor bottle. Working for Finch and the machine had given him begrudging friendships with two cops who were polar opposites--one dirty but slowly seeking redemption, and the other too clean but falling slowly from grace each time she looked away from her sworn duty at his request.

It had brought him a different kind of friendship with Finch, its creator; a man with a deep and hidden past, who carried physical scars in the awkward gait and stiffness of his body, and mental scars that manifested in his determination to fulfill the machine's bidding.

Standing on the street corner with the loss of Finch fresh in his mind, John looked directly into the camera. Unlike the people edging past him with sideways glances, he was fully aware of the machine looking back at him with its cold logic. Finch had programmed it, but John hoped that it had started to exceed its programming, extrapolating from the data presented to it in the form of the threat John had offered up to overcome Finch's directive.

He waited for a tell-tale sign that it could filter through the logic and see that its directive to do nothing to save its creator was flawed. At the very least, John hoped to hold it hostage to its prime directive, of helping those whom the government considered irrelevant.

The pay phone beside him rang, and John picked up the handset and listened, allowing the ghost of a smile at this small victory.

It took time to track down Finch, and when at last he spotted him in the station, tucked into a wheelchair like an invalid uncle, John felt a rush of relief and pleasure that almost overwhelmed him. Years of training hid his emotions as he brought Finch home, back to his precious library and computers.

When John first realized Finch was afraid to set foot outside alone, part of him had rejoiced, seeing it as a means to keep Finch safe from another kidnap attempt from ROOT. He would know where Finch was every second of the day, able to concentrate on his more physical activities with greater precision while he no longer had that fear of loss eating away at his insides. Except his gut churned with a different kind of loss, seeing the caring, competent man falter, almost afraid of his own shadow, and John knew he could not trade his comfort at Finch's expense. So he pushed and goaded, forcing Finch to leave the relative safety of his library, while John dealt with his own demons, leaving Finch's protection to a special kind of dog, one that would kill to protect Finch.

Standing in the library at the end of another case, John stared at the man who had given him purpose, and with an Epiphany that rocked through him, he saw through the delusion he had spun inside his own head. He hadn't even noticed the fall of the emotional barriers that framed his heart, replaced with weak excuses that could no longer support the truth.

He had promised never to love another; never to become so close to another, but the man seated with his back to John had torn through all those flimsy promises; promises made a lifetime ago when he was a different man, disillusioned with a dark and corrupt world.

"John?"

Finch turned his head carefully, trying to see him over his shoulder, and John moved swiftly to save Finch the additional pain.

"Yes, Finch?"

Finch's eyes narrowed a fraction and John could imagine that quick mind examining him with curiosity, having seen a flicker in his eyes or expression before John had pulled himself back under full control.

"Tomorrow there'll be a new number so I suggest we both get some sleep."

"Yes."

Finch paused for a second. "I'm... having a few problems sleeping since..."

"I know."

Finch pushed himself to his feet and took a few hesitant steps towards the exit. He stopped and turned his head a fraction.

"Good night, Mr. Reese."

"Good night, Finch."

John watched him walk away while his newly-awakened emotions tore at him, begging him to catch up and reach out with his heart. He closed his eyes and sighed softly.

Perhaps tomorrow.

END


End file.
